The 24th Annual Hunger Games
by TheSpasticStoat
Summary: SYOT: OPEN. 24 tributes enter a maze of an arena to fight to the death. There are no winners only survivors. But in the end, only one can live. SYOT: OPEN
1. The New Head Gamemaker

**Author's Note: **This is just the prologue of my SYOT story. The forms and information are all on my profile and I encourage you to send in a tribute. My goal is that once I get all the tributes in, is I will update every weekend at the very least. I plan to have a chapter for each district's reapings' then 13(or more) chapters covering the events before the start of the games. I will switching POV with all the tributes, some of their family members or friends, and the game makers.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and anything you recognize from it, is not mine.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

- The Spastic Stoat

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><p><strong>Jenny Clarefield, Head Gamemaker POV:<strong>

As I walk down the long, white hallway the only noises to be heard are the click of my own sparkling heels. Today is the day to look my best, today is the day I present my plans to the president.

After what feels like forever, I finally reach the end of the immaculate hallway leading to President Ramsey's office. I stop before the large, intimidating doors engraved with the symbol of Panem, stand up tall, and knock confidently on the door. After a few nerve wracking seconds, an authoritative, "Come in." reaches my ears.

With one last deep breath, I take my first step into the room.

The circular walls of the room are lined with bookshelves of beautifully carved wood. Each shelve is packed with classic literature unavailable anywhere else. But what really draws my attention is the stern looking women behind a large mahogany desk in the center of the room. She has her brown hair with strands of grey pulled back into a strict bun. For a moment I wonder why she would chose to leave the grey when she could easily die it or wear a wig. But as I study her striking jaw and serious eyes, I realize that the gray adds to her appearance. Despite things I would thing are ugly on another person, she looks beautiful and powerful. She looks like the stern ruler of Panem.

I slowly approach the desk.

"Take a seat Ms. Clarefield." President Ramsey says with a casual gesture to a large, rich blue arm chair without looking up from her paperwork. I take my seat silently and open my folder to reveal the drawings I painstakingly perfected over the past few months. Looking up from her paper work, the President makes eye contact with me and gives a slight nod. I hesitantly slide the folder onto the desk and wait for her to say something. A minute passes agonizingly slowly as I watch her emotionless face scan the plans.

I jump when President Ramsey suddenly says, "Ms. Clarefield." Panic washes over me like a tsunami and I attempt to stutter out a response only to be cut off.

"Brilliantly done." An inaudible sigh escapes me upon hearing those words from the President of Panem.

"I believe next week will be fine?" President Ramsey continues.

Upon seeing the look of confusion on my face she clarifies, "To start the process of building the arena."

Process of building the arena.

My arena.

President Ramsey wants to build _my_ arena.

She must have gotten tired of waiting for my response because I'm broken out of my thoughts by her sharp voice dismissing me. I walk out of the room in a daze. My biggest dream has come true.

I am the Head Gamemaker of the 24th annual Hunger Games.

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><p>Reaching my office only to find a dozen people milling about was probably even more weird than having my plans accepted by President Ramsey. No one comes to my office. I do my best to blend in, and it works. On the rare occasion that I file something wrong, I might get a note in my mail box, but never a visitor. Let alone 12.<p>

So what comes out of my mouth right now is, "Are you lost?"

Suddenly all heads turn to me and immediately regret opening my mouth. One girl with particularly sparkly hair speaks up, "Excuse me, but are you Jenny Clarefield?"

"Er... yes." I reply in confusion.

"Well congratulations! You look very nice. The red sparkly shoes are a nice touch. I bet that's how you got the job. Oh silly me, of course that's not how! You must be very smart. I'm going to love working with you. I can just tell!" she babbles cheerily.

I just stare dumbly at her, in awe of how fast she can talk.

"Oops! Looks like I never introduced myself, I'm Pipi. I'm your personal assistant now. And the rest of us are all here to make your dream arena happen."

My brain registers two things in that rant: her name, and the fact that I have a team of 12 people now.

"Um, hello Pipi. Its, uh, nice to meet you." Immediate after this comes out my mouth I berate myself over it. I'm head gamemaker now, and this is my crew. I _need_ them to respect me. I can't be stuttering over meeting new people. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and throw my shoulder's back.

I open my eyes and address the crowd, "Thank you everyone for coming to congratulate me. We are going to make history this year. My designs for the arena are like none before and my team will be too. Without all of you I will never be able to make this happen. In honor of having this privilege being bestowed upon us, I give you the rest of the day off. Get a good nights rest, because tomorrow we will begin. There is a lot of work to be done."

A small smattering of applause follows my speech and the crowd begins to disperse. As I watch them leave I can't help but be proud of myself. I did it. I found my confidence. I knew that once the President accepted my plans my life would come together. And that moment has finally come.

I will prove to everyone that I belong in the Capitol. I will prove that I deserve to be Head Gamemaker.

I am Jenny Clarefield and I will be remembered as the best Gamemaker ever in the Hunger Games.


	2. 23rd Games: Red

**Author's Note:** I'm still waiting on tributes for the 24th Hunger Games but here is an excerpt from the previous year.

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><p><strong>Reyna Childs POV:<strong>

Red. All I see is red. The red of Pia's blood blossoming from her chest. The red of the two feathers on the end of the arrow. The red of her hair as it whips through the wind.

Falling.

Falling away from me.

Falling down.

Red in a puddle hundreds of feet down. Red that shrouds her body. The red of her hair, the red of her blood. I don't know anymore.

I turn and I run. My breath comes in tiny puffs as my legs pump back and forth, carrying me away.

Away from the red.

Away from Pia.

I skid to a stop. I try to listen for noises, but I'm deaf to everything but the sound of my own beating heart. I collapse into the ground and squeeze my eyes shut. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes but it still comes. The red still comes.

A broken sob escapes my small body. It alone pierces the silence of the wood. I am alone. Alone with nothing but my own sobs to listen to.

I scramble to my feet and run again, because that is all I can do now. Run from the red.

I run and run and run.

I don't remember stopping, but I must have, because I'm in a small cave, sobbing. But this time my sobs echo. Echoing around me. They join together into a chorus of voices. Suddenly I feel bigger, part of something more than myself. And I know what it is.

Pia.

She is a part of me now. She always will be. But part of me is with her. Part of me is lost. Lost in the red. The same red that keeps her from me. Most of her. The only part untainted by red is in me. I can't let the red touch that last bit of her. I can't let the red touch me. I have to live.

For her.

For Pia.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I hope this wasn't too confusing. I was trying to capture the character's emotions and state of mind, so I know this won't make 100% sense, but hopefully it wasn't too bad. So let me know what you thought of the formating/writing/POV.

- The Spastic Stoat


	3. Chapter 3

**Caleb Thorne POV:**

I confidently swagger down my street, knowing and accepting today's importance. Exactly a year ago today my sister volunteered for the Hunger Games.

Carissa was chosen by the academy, everyone expected her to win. And she almost did. But in the 9th day of the games, it was only her, her district partner, district 2's girl, a boy from 4, and a girl from 9.

The girl from 9 managed to pick off the guy from 4 when he was away from the pack, leaving only 4 tributes. Upon hearing the canon, the remaining careers returned to camp, awaiting the arrival of the boy from 4, expecting him to have done the killing. However, when night fell and they saw his face plastered against the starry sky, the girl from 2, realizing there were only 4 tributes left, lunged at Carissa stabbing her in the back.

Today I will be volunteering for the games as district 1's 'Golden Boy' and I will do what Carissa couldn't. I will win the Hunger Games, avenging Carissa and coming home to my family.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the honey blonde hair of the girl selected this year to volunteer with me. I turn to her, catching her eye, and give quick wink. I promptly return my focus to road ahead of me; I don't have to see her face to know what her reaction is, all of the girls love me. And really, what's not to like? She is probably beside her self right now.

I continue on my way, waving, winking at, and greeting the people I pass. By the time I reach the town square, I have probably greeted half of the people there.

I step in line to get registered and make my way to the guy's section. The almost imperceptible needle stings my finger as I am registered and I begin my walk to the 17 year old section roped off near the end.

As I wade my way through the crowd I get countless congratulations and pats on the back by guys at the academy who already know the decision. I finally take my place and let my light blue eyes scan the girls' section opposite of me for Gemma, my training partner as of two months ago. My eyes pass over dozens upon dozens of vaguely familiar faces before settling upon her's. She too is scanning the crowd; for me no doubt. When she reaches me I smirk across the square at her, gloating about my status as the chosen volunteer this year. She quirks an eyebrow at me and I know exactly what it means. She thinks she will be chosen next year.

Suddenly, the capitol anthem echos through the air, cutting off our almost conversation.

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><p><strong>Diana Tock POV:<strong>

I stand up straighter at the sound of the capitol anthem. As the sound ricochets through the square Jahlecia, our escort, steps up to the stage.

This year's theme seems to be the night sky. Her hair is a dark blue that is left long and wavy down to the small of her back. The top half is pulled back intricately by countless sparkly silver pins. Her gown is just as stunning. This year she seems to have opted for a long train, also blue. The dress itself is fairly simple by Capitol standards, but she dresses it up with obscenely sparkly jewelry.

As the music comes to a close, Jahlecia's silver lips part into a large smile.

"Hello District 1, and welcome to the first reapings of this year's hunger games! This year is going to be so exciting! Well, before we begin the reapings, let us watch the tape our president has so graciously provided."

And with that, she steps to the side and projection appears, covering the area she previously stood. The Capitol symbol comes up and the videos come on again.

My eyes glaze over as I find myself not paying any attention. But why should I? I've seen this every year since I was old enough to watch.

"Let give a round of applause for that wonderful piece!"

My eyes snap open as everyone around me applauds; the video must be over. Thank God.

"And with that, let's begin!" She says, almost bursting with excitement. "Ladies first."

She reaches her hand into the bowl, dark blue fingertips with twinkling stars searching for the perfect paper. She pulls one out and reads the name.

"Clarity Fox." I watch as a small girl makes her way silently up to the stage. I don't pay her much attention because I know that she won't actually be entering the arena. Another girl, Serena, was chosen by the academy to be this year's volunteer. She has perfect honey blonde hair and and an innocent face. But that is just a mask, underneath, she is an absolute bitch. She slept with my, _now ex-_boyfriend. And now she plans to volunteer. Let's just see how that goes, _Serena._

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><p><strong>Caleb Thorne POV:<strong>

I continue to watch, with a bored expression on my face as Jahlecia's hand roots around in the boys' bowl. She pulls a paper out, and with a gleeful expression reads out the name, "Tyler Saunders". An older, but scrawny boy ascends the steps of the stage. Once he reaches the spot next to Jahlecia, she claps her hands together and makes the announcement we are all waiting for, "And now, dear citizens, are there any volunteers?"

I perk up and begin to walk lazily toward the center, smiling at familiar faces on the way. I jump when I hear an unfamiliar voice shout, "I volunteer! I, Diana Tock volunteer, as tribute!". I hear a screech to my left as Serena pushes her way to meet Diana by the stage.

"HOW _DARE_ YOU! I WAS CHOSEN! ME! AND YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST, JUST, UPSTAGE THAT?"

"What? You were chosen? I'm sorry I didn't know… I just thought, I mean, I thought I could volunteer. I didn't know this would happen. I _so_ sorry." Diana replies in a fake innocent voice.

I chuckle to myself as I notice how distraught Jahlecia appears to be. I decide to step in.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE." I shout over the din of voice before walking confidently up the stairs.

Diana seem to take this as her cue, and she follows me, leaving Serena fuming. I step up to the stage and turn to face the audience. Diana is just now walking up the steps, and, with a little work, she could really pull off the sexy, dangerous look.

She has a heart shaped face with cheekbones that could cut glass and almond shaped brown eyes. Her hair is black and currently in a bun, but small curly tendrils, that were too short to make the bun, frame her face, giving her just the right amount of femininity. Her skin is a dark tan and her face has a smattering of scars and acne. She has a decent amount of muscles on her arms and legs, but still retains a feminine shape.

Jahlecia, meanwhile, seems to gather herself and puts a hand on each of our shoulders, "Could I have your names, please?", she questions.

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><p><strong>Diana Tock POV:<strong>

I turned to Jahlecia and spoke clearly, "I'm Diana Tock."

"And how old are you, dear?"

"17", I reply.

"And you,dear, what's your name?"

I turn to the boy to hear his response, even though I already know his name. Everyone in the town knows Caleb.

"I'm Caleb Thorne and I'm 17", he says with his usual confidence bordering on arrogance.

Jahlecia then takes her hands off of our shoulders and gestures out to the crowd. "District 1, I give you your tributes! Diana Tock and Caleb Thorne!"

Her last statement is followed by a thunderous applause and I begin to wave enthusiastically at the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Caleb doing the same, but in a more subdued manner.

After a few moments we are lead into the Justice Hall and down a long hallway that ends in two rooms. I am ushered into the left room and Caleb into the right.

I look around me to see a fairly plain, but clean room. The walls are a pale cream color and the floor is beautiful hard wood. The only furniture is a sage green sofa and the two end tables on either side. Atop each table is a small bonsai tree.

As I walk over to investigate one, the door behind me bursts open and I hear the cacophony of footsteps that could only be my family. I live with my mother, father, brother, grandmother, and cousin. My little cousin, Claire runs up to me and jumps into a hug. I return the hug and rub her back in comfort. Conscious of my limited time, I set her down and look her in the eye.

"Claire, I'm going to make it back and we are going to live in a big house in the victor's village. Just wait, you'll see."

She simply sniffles and nods, so I move on to except the embrace of my mother and father. We don't really talk a lot, but they mean so much to me. I always know that my parents will support me in everything. We don't need words.

After what feels like only seconds, but was actually closer to minutes, my grandmother pulls me into a hug. This one only lasts about 10 seconds before she pulls back and looks at me seriously.

"Diana, I want you to do whatever it takes to win. I don't care what it is, just do it."

With that the Peacekeepers enter to take my family away, our five minutes spent. Just before exiting, Claire stuffs something in my hand. I don't have time to look at it because my two friends come bursting into the room next and I have to stuff it in my pocket.

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><p><strong>Caleb Thorne POV:<strong>

I sit on the stiff couch waiting for my family to come. Sure they already knew I would volunteer, but it is more for formalities.

When the door does open, it is my sister who enters first. Mariele come barreling toward me and hops up on the couch, sitting in my lap.

My parents are much more calm and walk silently in to sit down on either side on me. I can feel the anxiety rolling off of them. They didn't want me to volunteer, but I had to. I can tell that they aren't going to talk first to I do.

"Mom, dad, I'm going to be fine. I needed to do this. For Carissa. It is going to be fine."

My mom turns to me, eyes gleaming with tears, and strokes my cheek and dad puts his arm around me. We sit like that until the peacekeepers come to take my family away.

They leave silently, our eyes shining with unshed tears and emotions left unsaid.

Once they are gone, I take a deep breathe and let myself think about the games I will be participating in within the week. My reverie is interrupted by the barely muted screams coming through the wall.

"DIANA! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING! YOU CAN'T JUST VOLUNTEER IF YOU HAVEN'T BEEN CHOSEN! AND WHAT A STUPID REASON! SURE SHE SLEPT WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND, BUT SO WHAT! YOU WEREN'T EVEN THAT ATTACHED TO HIM! WHAT AN IDIOT!"

I chuckle, so that's the reason. Even when the peacekeepers come in to bring me to the train, the faintest of smiles remains on my face.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Well, there it is! The district 1 reapings. I've already started the reapings for district 2, so that should be up pretty quickly. So what did you like, what did you hate? I always want to know.  
>Random question: What is your favorite candy? (Mine is dark chocolate.)<p> 


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